There’s poetry out here
if I keep my wits about me,
stumbling out above the clear,
upon the schist and scree.
A chance to pull and find
what huddled masses long to know,
but never dare to leave behind
the soil that they sow.
There’s poetry out here
if I’m only willing to see,
and venture to absorb and hear
a finer way to be.
Like strings on a guitar,
the words are there, ready to hum,
but left unplayed, an idle car,
an instrument unstrung.
So, I head for places far flung
in search of kindness and the truth,
hunting for songs unsung,
the self I lost in youth.
Treading out new soil,
kicking thoughts and rocks a-loose,
I walk, hoping not to spoil
the thoughts I have deduced.
Among the roots and rocks and pines
I try to keep my feet,
knowing that the bump and rhyme
will help me feel complete.
And running through what words to lever
I stumble, and I play,
against the fear that they might never
feel the light of day.
Because there’s poetry in here,
to say what no one’s heard,
and bring lost thoughts to ear
by the marvel of written word.
— ❧ —
Poetry Inspired by Nature
Most of the poems I write are inspired by nature. I’m usually working on prose, but a few times a week I go for a hike, looking for inspiration, and inevitably, a poem or two jump into my head. If you enjoy, please head over to In Verse for more poetry and feel free to leave a comment.
